


An Open Window

by specifiedtrash



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specifiedtrash/pseuds/specifiedtrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon goes to visit Sayaka after getting an important note. Takes place during Chapter 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Open Window

From the moment he’d unfolded the note from Sayaka, Leon had been grinning. The idol wanted him? _Him?_  Of course she did! Look at him! He’d spent a moment in front of his mirror before leaving. Perfect. An extra hit of Axe for good measure. Maybe one more. A long spray, over his chest. Chicks loved the stink of Axe. The more the better.

He straightened his collar, checked his teeth, and headed off to her room. Funny, he’d thought it was on the other side of the hall. Either way, he knocked and waited for her to answer.

After a moment, she did. Smiling through her pristine, pale Chinadoll face. He grinned back, a little lopsided on one side, and could feel his heart rate pick up. Did she just want to talk? Did she want to ask about his music? Did she want… _Alone time_  with him? Oh, shit, he’d better say something before it gets weird.

"Yo- Maizono! Somethin’ ya wanna see me about?" Flawless. He looked so suave, so punk and casual, but cool and untouchable as well. She let out a light laugh, closed eyes and innocent, open-mouthed smile.

"Yes, Kuwata-kun! Please come in for a moment, there’s something I want to talk to you about." She stepped aside to let him in, and he jumped at the chance. Holy shit. She really did want him. And not for his music, either. She just wanted  _him._  “Please lock the door?” She said sweetly, and sat on the edge of the bed. Shit, she was giving him _those_ eyes, wasn’t she? It wasn’t just his imagination? He obliged and went to join her.

"So, what’s up?" Alright, he knew, but he had to ask. Had to make sure. She just patted the spot beside her, and he sat where she’d implied. Obeying every little gesture. Sit, and you get a treat. He’d never admit how nervous he was. They barely knew each other, but she was  _famous._  Sure, he had a little renown back in middle school through his baseball team, but that was nothing. She’d probably never heard of him. And here he was, invited into her room and beckoned onto her bed.

"I don’t want to be alone," she said, glancing down a little and holding one hand to her chest. "I’m so afraid someone is going to try to hurt me, Kuwata-kun. I’m just a girl, I can’t defend myself if someone comes after me." He leaned closer and put a hand on her upper arm, trying to force eye contact.

"No way, Maizono! I’m not gonna let anybody touch ya! They’d have to get through _me,_ first!” She kept looking away, and her eyes glassed over. Shit, she was going to cry, wasn’t she? Without thinking he hugged her and gave a tight squeeze. He didn’t let go, and the way she leaned in said she didn’t want him to. Ever so slightly he could feel her shoulders shake with disguised, quieted sobs. Alright, now he understood. She didn’t want him like _that._  She was just shaken up from all that had happened. It was stupid for him to think otherwise.

Still. Why had she asked _him?_  Maybe his charm, maybe his looks. Maybe she really did like the smell of Axe. He’d gotten the impression she was sticking to Naegi, anyway. What had happened between them that she’d wanted Leon, instead?

None of this had really sunk in, no answers to the questions he’d skimmed over. Right now he was just loving the feeling of holding her. Slender shoulders, soft hair, and something about her smelled like flowers and fruits and summer and good things. An open window, the breath of air they all were clawing at the walls to get. It didn’t have to be more than that. For right now, they both just needed to step back a minute, take that breath of air, and reassure each other it would be okay.

That is, until he caught a glance of a mirror on the nightstand. At once the blood drained from his face. There in that pocket-sized reflection was Sayaka, himself, and a kitchen knife hovering over his back. He jerked away with a twist away from the knife, up to his feet and giving her an unintended shove away. When he’d moved he felt the knife glance over his shoulder. It hadn’t been a trick of the light- she really was holding a knife. And she really was crying.

"I’m sorry, Kuwata-kun, but I have to get out." She said it calmly, through grit teeth and a hard expression. He could practically feel his adrenaline levels rising, but they shrunk in comparison to his anger.

"What?! So ya just figured you’d _kill me_  for it?!” Fuck, that had actually been pretty close. If he hadn’t caught that reflection, would she have really gone through with it? Could the sweet Sayaka really stab him in the back like that?  _Literally?_  He couldn’t spare a second to think before she came at him again, aiming right at his face. Jesus- she really meant to kill him.

Her mistake was choosing an athlete. He grabbed the thing closest him and held it in the way. After the fact, he realized it was a practise sword. That was actually not too bad of an option. It was a weapon, at least. “Fuck- Maizono! Put the fuckin’ knife down! I’m not gonna hurt ya! Just drop the fuckin’ knife!” But she wasn’t listening, she just pulled back to take another stab.

Leon stumbled out of the way and she drew a long slash over the wall behind where he’d stood moments ago. She turned to take another strike and he panicked. He yanked the sword from it’s sheath and blocked another slash just in time. Shit, she was relentless. The blade missed but the fact hit- to get out of this room alive, he was going to have to kill her.

"Stop fighting me, Kuwata-kun! I don’t want to hurt you!" She cried, through the screech of metal-on-metal when their two weapons met.

"Like hell ya don’t!" He shoved back with all the force he could. The force that cleared the bases and pitched at pro-league speeds. She staggered back and fell to the ground, the knife slipped from her hands and she pawed at the ground to get away from him. Everything in her eyes was afraid. Everything in his own was furious. He stood over her with the training sword. No hesitation. Stop her from stabbing him.

"Please, Kuwata-kun!" She begged through tears. "Please don’t do this!" It was self defence. He swung the blade over her and met it’s sheath. Fuck, when had she picked that up? Gold flakes shot off where he’d hit it and her wrist crumpled in the force. She cried out in pain and screwed her eyes shut. He pulled the blade back, but before he could try again, she darted past his legs, to the knife, and into the bathroom. He heard it latch and her loud cries through the door. No hesitation. As she moved, he moved with her, and the toy sword scraped over the door uselessly. He yanked the handle. No good, it must be locked.

"Open this fucking door!" He shouted and banged against it. "Open it! Open this door right now!" The only reply was more sobbing. He slammed himself against it. Useless. "You can’t stay in there forever! Open up, open it right now!" There was another sound, but he couldn’t pin what it was. Her shoes, sliding on the tile? The knife, dragging over the sink? He had no idea.

After a few minutes of yelling, he pressed his forehead to the door and caught his breath. Alright, clear your head, Kuwata. Try to figure your way through this. The second you let your guard down is the second she flings the door open and comes at you with that kitchen knife. He slowly sat against the door, back to it, and rested his elbows over his knees.

For a while, both were silent. But both could hear the other breathing. Every subtle movement. Both imagined seeing their counterpart, matching tiny sounds and muffled sobs to moving feet and shuffling hands. “So,” he said, after a long pause. “Do ya like Axe?” There was another silence, but in this one, she’d stopped breathing. He pictured her face, surprised, confused, but still composed. Looking for the right words.

"The cologne?" He could still hear the tears on her cheeks, the lump in her throat.

"Yeah. That’s the kind I wear. Do ya like it?" For a moment she said nothing.

"Not really. It’s too strong." He smiled at his hands. A little less than a laugh, but enough for her to hear. He pictured her smiling back.

"So I should wear somethin’ else, right? What kind do ya like?"

"I… don’t really know that many types of colognes. But… Something that smells more natural, I think. Axe doesn’t smell like flowers or fruits or anything people like, it’s just it’s own scent." He could almost see the way she tapped her chin to think, that way she’d have glanced upwards in thought.

"Natural, got it. I dunno about flowers and fruits, though. That’s kinda girly. What about somethin’ kinda like tree bark and cut grass?"

"Yes, that would be much better! Do you have something like that?" In the bathroom there was just the faintest of echoes. Not enough to make her hard to understand, but enough that when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t forget where they both were. He closed them anyway, and imagined being outside.

"Yeah, that’s the kind my dad used to wear. I took some of his when I was a kid, and then he bought me some of my own. The guys on my baseball team used to say I smelled like a 40-year old. I’ve worn Axe since that."

"I think I’d prefer that. Axe is too…  _Punctuated._  It makes you very aware that there’s cologne, like a boy trying to prove he’s an adult for wearing it. Is that mean?” He couldn’t help but laugh there, and he heard the slightest laugh back.

"We’re past bein’ mean to each other, Babe." There was another silence, and he regretted his choice of words.

"Are you going to let me leave, Kuwata-kun?" Another pause. He wanted to say something. He wanted more than anything to say yes, to let her out and hug her again and breathe from that opened window.

"I don’t know," was all he managed to say. Why didn’t he lie? Why couldn’t he? They both shifted uneasily. "Are you hurt, right now?" She hesitated.

"My wrist is hurt. I think it might be broken. Can I get a tensor?"

"Ya still got that knife?"

"Yes."

"Then no." They both went quiet again. It was a loud silence, the kind that almost hurt his ears and made him ache for it to end. He heard her stand up, take a couple steps. The clank of something metal on something tile. He clambered back to his feet and held the knob in one hand, toy sword in the other. "What are ya doin’?"

"Please leave, Kuwata-kun."

"What are ya doin’?" He repeated, and tried the knob again. No luck.

"Just please go away. Please." Shit, what was she trying to do? He couldn’t see her or figure out where exactly she was from sound alone. "I’m hurt. I want to go to bed and forget this happened."

"Yeah, me too."

"Could you sleep?"

"What?"

"Could you sleep, Kuwata-kun? After this, could you lay down in bed, close your eyes, and fall asleep?" He thought a second.

"Yeah, why?" Maybe it would take a while, but in his own locked room, it would probably be fine. There was a long pause. So long, he started to wonder if she was still there. "… Maizono?"

"I want you to go away, Kuwata-kun. Please."

"No. I’m not leavin’."

"Until?"

"What?"

"You’re not leaving  _until what?_ " He hesitated.

"Until ya come out."

"Until one of us is killed." They both thought the same thing.  _What was the difference?_

"Just open the door. C’mon, we’ll talk about this. Come out, and we’ll forget it ever happened."

"You want out, too."

"Of course I do. But I’m not gonna kill ya over it."

"What was on your videotape?" He looked away from the spot on the door where he’d imagined her eyes. Slowly he let go of the doorknob and relaxed his grip on the sword.

"My cousin." She said nothing in reply. Surely she knew the details, her own tape must’ve been similar enough.

"I have to get out, Kuwata-kun."

"I’m not gonna let ya kill me."

"I’m not going to let _you_  kill  _me,_  either.”

"I know." He slowly stepped away from the door and paced around the room. Odd, he’d expected to see more decorations. Maybe he was the only one that had decorated up his room.

"Kuwata-kun?"

"Yeah?"

"… I thought you’d left."

"Nope."

"Are you going to?"

"Nope." Why not? Why was he still here? His blood had cooled since she’d come at him with that knife, probably a full hour had passed since she’d locked herself in the bathroom. Maybe he wanted to prove something. Maybe he had to know for sure that she wouldn’t come after him. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep, after all.

For a long time they said nothing more to each other. He paced the room. Looked at the damage they’d done to it. Wondered what she was doing. Wondered if she was afraid. Wondered if she’d forgive him. If he’d forgive her. Easily another hour passed in relative silence.

Then he left. She couldn’t have known he was gone- he had been moving around the room and when he opened the door it was quiet. He left the toy sword and went to his own room without a word. He paid special mind to lock the door and fell onto his own bed. Still fully clothed but too tired and unmotived to change into sleepwear.

But every time he closed his eyes for more than a minute he felt that knife glance his shoulder, he saw that reflection and heard her tell him to stop fighting. He stared uneasily at the ceiling. Was she still in that bathroom, unsure if he was gone or not? It was only a half hour before he switched on the lights, found his toolkit, and returned to her unlocked room with it. He picked up the toy sword, right where he left it, and with his idle hand he spun off three screws before the handle fell free and door slid ajar.

He heard her gasp and tense. Pictured every movement. Before opening the door, he knew exactly where she was. Her eyes overflowed with terrified tears and she hugged the kitchen knife close to her body. It was too late for that.

"K-Kuwata-kun, please don’t-"

"Shut up." He was too tired to talk. He wanted to sleep, to wake up knowing he’d go home. He stooped down and went to yank the knife away from her. She gasped in pain and let it go easily. Her wrist really  _was_  hurt.

"Please," she begged, and curled in on herself protectively. One hand up defensively, the other held close to her body. She grimaced and turned her face away. Good. That made it easier for everyone, if she didn’t look at him.

The last thing she smelled was Axe, and he got to take the last breath from that opened window before it slammed shut.


End file.
